On All Hallows' Eve
by weemcg33
Summary: Part of my Sancuary Universe - Set after Clint first meets Phil's family. Jessica, the middle sister he didn't get to meet comes to visit with her twin boys and Tommy, for Halloween. What should be a harmless celebration causes some unforeseen problems for Clint. Rated T for safety.


On All Hallows' Eve

Disclaimer: I don't own anything :(

Author's Note: I have no idea where this came from lol just a little piece set after Clint first meets Phil's family. Jessica, the middle sister he didn't get to meet comes to visit with her twin boys and Tommy for Halloween. What should be a harmless celebration causes some unforeseen problems for Clint.

Thanks to my amazing beta, DevinBourdain!

Enjoy!

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><p>Clint turned the hot water tap on and thrust his hands underneath. He used the scrubbing brush to clean off the red liquid still staining his hands. The hot water was scolding but he paid it no attention, his desperation to get the blood off was more important.<p>

A loud knock on the bathroom door caused him to jump. His eyes widened as the handle jiggled ineffectually against the lock securely keeping the door fastened shut.

"Clint? You alright?" Phil called from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, dad. Just give me a minute." The teen looked down at his hands, thankful that he'd managed to get most of it off. Another quick scrub with the soap and brush then he turned the tap off, grabbing the nearest towel and drying his hands.

When he opened the door he wasn't surprised to see Phil leaning against the wall opposite, his arms across his chest and a worried frown marring his features. Barton sighed, glancing down at the floor unwilling to meet the older man's concerned gaze. Even though it had been months since his last episode, the teen realised belatedly, that being around Phil's family, his family, was both a blessing and a curse. If there was one thing which stubbornly stayed ingrained in his mind, it was that nothing lasted forever. Clint never wanted them to bear witness to the horrors he'd endured. Mentally he kicked himself, he'd become complacent, and now Tommy had seen a side of him that he'd endeavoured to keep hidden, locked away in a box never to see the light of day.

The agent willed the tightness in his chest away, wishing for once that things could be simple, that something as normal as Halloween shouldn't be the cause of horrible flashbacks for the blond boy before him. Yet that was exactly what happened. Less than an hour ago, Clint had been smiling and laughing as he helped Tommy with his costume. The younger boy was dressing up as a vampire and while the teen had offered to help, Phil was sure that Clint hadn't meant for things to get so out of control. Tommy had handed his cousin the fake blood to put on his fangs and have some dribble from his lips as if he'd just taken some poor soul's life.

Phil watched as his boy struggled to open the test tube sized container of blood. The lid had suddenly given way with a pop, spilling the contents all over Clint's hands. Already stepping forward to assure the teen that it was alright, this stuff usually washed out easily enough, Phil noticed that Barton wasn't really listening. He didn't even appear to be aware of his presence. It was only when he saw the subtle shaking of the boy's hands that he realised he needed to get Clint away from prying eyes; his boy was having a flash back.

Tommy watched his cousin's vacant stare with a mixture of apprehension and hopelessness. He didn't know what to do and was scared of making things worse. It didn't help that he had no clue as to what was going on, only guessing that it might have something to do with Clint's past. Before he'd met Clint, Tommy had overheard his mom and dad talking about some of the effects his big cousin could suffer from enduring life on the streets. Anxiety attacks and PTSD, those were only a few of the things spoken of in hushed voices, that at six years old, Tommy couldn't even begin to grasp the terrible things that had befallen his cousin. This knowledge had alarmed the younger boy, and not sure what else to do, he'd started writing Clint letters and drawing him pictures. Hoping that by pouring his affection into the childish scribbles, it would somehow aid the newest member of their family and make him feel less alone.

Phil turned to his nephew with a sharp look, nodding toward the kitchen, in hopes the younger boy wouldn't argue with him about being sent away. As luck would have it, Tommy seemed to understand, giving his cousin a worried glance before heading downstairs to join the rest of the family.

Coulson pulled the teen into the nearest bedroom and guided him to the bed. As he crouched down in front of Clint, his heart tightened at the trail of tears streaming down the boy's pale cheeks. Tenderly, he wiped at them with his thumb, offering comforting contact in the hopes of reaching Clint but the boy remained unresponsive, staring blankly ahead.

Struggling to pull himself together, the agent forced out a calming breath. He needed to take control of this situation, he couldn't afford for his own erratic emotions to get the best of him; not when Clint needed him.

"What do you see, kid?" Phil asked quietly.

Silence was his only answer, though he thought he saw Clint blink. There was definitely something going on in that head of his, Phil just had to work out what it was and bring him back from the dark and treacherous regions of his nightmares. It had been too long since the teen had one of these episodes and he'd been foolish to think that they'd simply stopped. The sheer number of nightmarish memories that Clint could be trapped in right now made Phil want to throw up.

Coulson gripped his boy's shoulders firmly and leaned in close. "Clint!" he commanded, believing his tone would snap the teen out of his internal prison.

Another blink, and Phil wanted to smile. Trying again, he called, "Clint! Look at me."

After what felt like an eternity, blue eyes finally locked on to his own and Coulson wanted to laugh with sheer relief. "You with me son?"

Barton swallowed audibly, his eyes closing for a moment as he focused on getting his thoughts back into some sort of order. He knew where he was, knew that Phil was alive and right there in front of him, yet he could still feel the overwhelming panic of feeling his dad's blood spilling between his fingers as he struggled to stop the precious liquid from spilling on to the marble floor of the bank where Phil had been shot by Karl. If he let himself, he could still smell the overpowering scent of blood assaulting his nostrils, hear the resounding echo of the weapon as it fired point blank at the older man. It still terrified him to think he might have lost Phil that day.

Clint finally lifted his head and met the older man's warm brown eyes, so filled with love and pride that the teen was almost overwhelmed for an entirely different reason. He gave a short nod, still looking anywhere but at his hands.

"Why don't we get this cleaned off?" Phil stood slowly, pulling Barton upright along with him. "C'mon kid."

The teen frowned suddenly, pulling away from the older man. "I can do it myself," he told Phil, a hint of frustration building up inside him. He wasn't angry at the older man, he knew that for a fact, yet the situation was making him feel vulnerable in a way he hadn't felt for a long while. He thought he was past all of this, past the fear that any little thing was going to set him off and now he'd probably freaked out his little cousin who had done nothing but look up to him. Tommy must be so disappointed.

"Okay Clint." Phil held his hands up in a gesture of peace, giving the teen room to move. He watched with an anguished expression as Barton walked unsteadily into the bathroom and closed the door. Waiting until he heard the sound of running water, the agent walked to the door and paused. Blowing out a breath, he leaned his forehead against the door as he listened to the sound of someone roughly scrubbing what he was sure was more than just fake blood from his hands; he was attempting to erase the horrific memories.

Once the door finally opened, Phil stared at the teen's pale skin and slightly flushed cheeks, before letting his gaze drift down to his son's hands which were almost raw. He'd definitely scrubbed them hard. Wanting nothing more than to take the boy into his arms and never let go, he first needed to make sure Clint was back with him.

"Talk to me, Clint. What was it?"

The youngster didn't answer, just moved to sit on the bed, Phil trailing behind him. They sat side by side, their shoulders touching in their familiar show of comfort, one Phil tended to resort to when words weren't necessary.

"It was the bank." The soft spoken words were said so quietly that Phil thought he'd imagined them. Then the memory of what Clint was referring to hit the agent like a ton of bricks, damn. He should've known it would be that one. That day still haunted both of them. Barton had a hard time coming back from that, believing that it was his fault that Phil had been shot and that the agent was going to send him away. For Coulson it had been his failure at keeping his boy safe and almost leaving him on his own, again after promising that he'd always be there.

Wrapping his arm around the teen's shoulders, Phil pulled him close and felt his lips quirk upward as the blond leaned into his embrace.

"You're okay kid. So am I." Phil reiterated that fact by squeezing Clint a little more tightly.

"Yeah," Clint breathed, closing his eyes and relishing in the feel of the older man's arms keeping him safe and comforted.

"You ready to go back downstairs or do you want to stay up here for a bit?" Phil felt Barton stiffen slightly. "They'll understand Clint."

"No, it's okay. I want to help. Besides, I still need to get changed."

Coulson stared at the boy for a second, contemplating whether or not he should take charge and cancel this evening or trust his boy to know what his limitations were. He decided to go with the latter. "Fine, but I'm coming with you. Alright?" Phil saw the flash of relief shine in those pale eyes before it was hidden.

"If you insist," Barton grumbled half-heartedly, though the older man could tell it was just for show.

Both started toward the stairs, a hand on Phil's arm stopping him before he descended the first step. "Thanks dad."

"Don't mention it, kid." Hearing the laughter coming from the kitchen, the agent turned to confirm the teen was sure about this. The steely determination he saw was one Phil was certainly familiar with. It was Clint's, 'I'm doing this and no one is going to stop me', face. "So what were you dressing up as again?"

Clint smirked, pleased at the change of subject. "Why, Captain America, of course."

"Of course."

Phil chuckled as Barton practically vaulted down the steps, landing lightly on his feet at the bottom before the agent had even taken one step forward. When he reached the bottom he wasn't at all surprised to see Clint crouched in front of Tommy, talking quietly and squeezing the smaller boy's shoulder in comfort; his promise to his little cousin that he was alright.

Brian and Lewis were putting the finishing touches on their own costumes. Brian decided to be a zombie, while Lewis had chosen to be a werewolf. The twins turned to Phil as he entered the kitchen with grins splitting their faces. If Coulson had a weak heart, he was sure he'd have had a heart attack looking at those creepy, fake teeth with blood dripping from the pointed fangs.

"Are you okay Phil? You look like you saw a ghost." Turning to his sister Jennifer, he gasped and almost jumped back as he took in her creepy clown outfit. His sister had always been one for dressing up. Even as she got older, her appreciation for Halloween never dwindled and she always picked the creepiest costumes.

"Dammit, Jen. You almost gave me a heart attack." Phil leaned heavily against the countertop, his hand resting over his rapidly beating heart.

Laughing, she placed her hand on his cheek, mimicking comfort. "That's the idea, Phil."

Scowling, the agent turned away, his gaze falling on Clint who was standing with his cousins, watching in amusement. Well at least it finally seemed like the teen was doing better. Barton helped apply one of the repulsive fake gashes on Brain; the grotesque latex peeling, hanging and bulging in all the right places, forming the illusion of decaying and rotting flesh. It made the costume look all the more real and Coulson found himself wondering where these people got their ideas from. Some things were just far too realistic.

The boys eventually disappeared upstairs when Clint went to get changed into his Captain America outfit. Phil had managed to convince one of the techs to replicate the Captain's iconic shield, just to complete the image.

A small, delicate hand squeezed his shoulder gently. Turning around, Phil found himself staring into the concerned eyes of his big sister, who also happened to be dressed as a sad clown. It was pretty damn freaky, especially as he had an unhealthy fear of clowns since he was six years old.

"You okay Phil?" Jennifer asked, seeing the faraway look in her brother's eyes.

"Yeah, Jen. I'm fine." He rewarded her with a small smile, squeezing the hand that rested on his shoulder. "Clint just had a bit of a flash back. I'm going to go trick or treating with you just in case."

"Alright." His sister agreed, her gaze drifting upstairs to where the boys were. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine. I'll make sure of it."

Jennifer nodded, reminded once again just how protective her brother could be, especially in regards to the teen she'd only met a month ago. Phil seemed to take the role of guardian just as seriously as he had when they were kids. Since their last visit they'd organised this little get together so that Clint could experience Halloween and get to spend more time with his new family. It shocked and saddened her that the teen had never experienced the fun and excitement that came with dressing up and venturing out to people's doors in the hopes of being overloaded with candy. It was just so sad, and something Jen had hoped to rectify.

When the boys appeared at the top of the stairs, Jennifer took a moment to mentally capture this image: Tommy as a blood sucking vampire, Brain a flesh eating zombie, Lewis a werewolf and Clint as Phil's childhood hero, Captain America. All of them were grinning down at her, and she realised that maybe this had been a good idea.

Looking over at her brother who stood silently beside her, Jen nodded in satisfaction when he took a picture of the boys with his phone.

"Well, who's ready to go trick or treating?" she asked.

The chorus of 'Me!' made her and Phil both laugh.

"Come on then. Let's go." Phil started to shuffle them toward the door but the kids were way ahead of him. They were already out the door and reaching the end of the path as Phil and Jen walked out the front door. The cool night air was soothing after being inside the stuffy house for hours getting ready.

"Thanks for this, Jen." Phil spoke softly as they walked side by side.

"It's my pleasure Phil. We need to do more of this, you know? It's been too long." Jennifer smiled when she saw the boys standing at the door to the first house. An elderly woman stood on the porch, taking the time to admire the boy's costumes before asking them what they would do for a trick. Each of them had a joke memorised for this very occasion. The lady laughed good-naturedly once they'd all finished reciting their jokes and handed them various sweets and chocolates bars.

"Thank you." They waved goodbye and begun moving on to the next door.

Brother and sister trailed behind the excited youngsters, their footsteps slowing as they finally reached the last house on the block. Once finished they'd cross over to the other side of the road and make their way back. Jen nudged her brother to get his attention. "I can't believe he's never experienced trick or treating. How is that even possible?"

"There are a lot of things he's never gotten to do. Some things he just might not remember because he was quite young when his parents died." Phil felt the familiar sadness creep up on him at the thought of the things Clint had missed out on growing up. There were things that every child should have knowledge of and this was just one of those. Instead the teen had spent most of his childhood simply trying to survive. He wasn't granted the luxury of presents at Christmas or on birthday's and had never understood why people got dressed up like this once a year and went to strangers doors expecting candy.

"Well that's something we're going to have to change then, isn't it?" Jennifer replied, arching an eyebrow at the younger man.

Phil smiled at his sister, knowing she was implementing her no nonsense attitude. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders he pulled her close. Unable to resist, he squeezed her fake red nose, laughing at the funny noise it made. "It definitely is."

Clint beamed at his dad and aunt as they made their way past them to cross the street, holding his bag up like a trophy, full of candy for Phil to see. If there was one thing on this planet that made Coulson glad, it was seeing the happiness displayed so openly on his son's face. They had to make more memories, good memories that outshined the bad; there was no place for those in Clint's head anymore. The kid had been through too much already and deserved a break from the darkness. With his family's help, Phil was sure they'd be able to accomplish that. After all, if there was one thing his family could be counted on for, it was chasing away the darkness. With Phil at the front holding the torch, nothing could stand in their way.

The End.


End file.
